=[Based at ..Ginny's house? Say they (Ginny, Xaver and Cody) were staying there? This is open, though I have a plan for it. Anyone can join, so long as they make a reason for being at Ginny's (&Xaver's =) ) in the middle of the night.]=
Xaver hadn't been able to sleep for days.
It was wearing on him - the constant fear, that if indeed he closed his eyes at night, and let sleep carry him to his dreams... That he would see, what he really had no want to see.
His brother had been there, when Xaver had first awoken, beneath the cold, ruthless rain - and that could mean a number of things. Xaver had learned real quick, that there really was no end to how far his brother would go. To the extent his brother would make, to cross that line. Hell - he'd killed their baby sister.
He hadn't gone to bed yet - not since he'd started having dark visions...
And slowly, his lack of sleep and care for his health was beginning to take a toll on his creature.
After Ginny and Cody had gone up to bed – Xaver swore he’d be up soon – he made into the kitchen, padding slowly around the table, lifting his arms high, and removing his black shirt, smooth, fit, hard muscle moving in his powerful creature, beneath the healthy bronze of his skin, revealed a piece of naked flesh at a time. He deposited the shirt into a dark pool upon the countertop, turning his back on it, and planting his palms behind him on the counter edge, leaning back, and crossing his legs at the ankle.
He tipped his head back, closing his eyes, and he sighed, as, with a soft simmer of released magic, the enormous entities of his wings suddenly materialized behind him, glorious as ever. The tile was cool against his bare feet – he was now clad in only black sweatpants, that clung loosely to his hips.
Who was he kidding?
Not anybody that mattered.
And definitely not himself.
..What a headache.
Maybe he had changed more than he realized, when he’d been away.
For three years.
Three years that he’d never get back.
Xaver pulled a rare face that most, in all their lives, couldn’t fathom, let alone see, letting his head fall, as raw frustration, and pain, and sorrow ravaged him, the emotions clear as day upon his handsome features. In the solitude of the kitchen, unshed tears sprung to the corners of his eyes, though he fought them away quickly, roughly, opening his eyes and pushing from the counter, clenching his jaw against the tide of emotions threatening to swallow him.
His head ached with every movement, wearing him down step for step until solace upon the couch was the only thing fathomable.
Just for the moment.
He laid back on the couch, his wings open beneath him, one spread out onto the floor, and the other draped lazily over the back of the couch, his legs hanging over the arm of it, from the calves down, one arm crossing his muscled abdomen, and the other tucked behind his head, he stared at the ceiling.
He didn’t want those nightmares.
…Just not the nightmares…
..Not the night…mares……..
It was only a few moments before sleep stole his thoughts, and he was motionless, falling into the dream-world he was so wary of.
It didn’t start off instantly.
For a former combat-trained warrior, he always spoke too much in his sleep, where a grunt was too much…
Over time, he’d taught himself into silence…
Though it only lasted a little while, anymore.
Soon it was sporadically twitching. Groaning.. And a sheen of cold, nervous sweat, that coated his tense, stiff form. His hands clenched into fists, his features locked into an expression of pain – pain that wreaked physically, and mentally.
“Mhnnffmm….”
He mumbled, his tones low, but almost panicked breathy, as he twitched, shielding his eyes with his arm, though against nothing..
“NO!”
At first strongly… Then with a lot less conviction…
“N-no..”
He tossed, and jerked, as if was painful to do so.
“S…st-…”
Xaver whispered a few choice words in his own language, turning his head. Dead asleep… though that was what he’d been afraid of, all along.
